


Strategic

by Primarybufferpanel (ArwenLune)



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub, F/M, Inspired by Art, Light BDSM, Podfic Welcome, Smut, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22885843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/Primarybufferpanel
Summary: "Wasn't really expecting this kind of surrender," he says softly. Nika turns her face away, feeling too exposed like this even with her helmet on. His hand comes up to firmly turn her back to face him, and she whimpers."You're into it, aren't you?"The asshole, how much more obvious does it have to be? Is he really going to make her say it?
Relationships: Paz Vizla/Original Female Character
Comments: 10
Kudos: 106





	Strategic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Astro_Ovess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Astro_Ovess/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [Lady_Astro_Ovess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Astro_Ovess/pseuds/Lady_Astro_Ovess). Log in to view. 



> I offered [Astromechartist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astromechartist/pseuds/astromechartist) a prompt to thank her for her amazing Sin Bin art, and here we are.
> 
> [New art link here](https://twitter.com/OvessBin/status/1230407212096466944/photo/1)  
> 

"Taking this to the ground—not a tactical move when sparring with somebody twice your size," Paz chuckles, keeping her pinned to the ground with one easy hand on her breastbone.

Nika is glad she's wearing her helmet, because he's absolutely right and also… her mind just completely switched tracks. She was trying to win, relishing the challenge of sparring with this huge man, getting some good hits in when she managed to slip under his guard.

Now he's leaning over her, casually holding her down, she suddenly doesn't really want to win anymore. She doesn't want to stop _fighting_ , but fuck, this is—she wants—

 _Definitely_ good she's wearing her helmet. She tries to scrape together her brain and act normally. _Fight, damn it. At least look like you're trying._ She manages to put her foot in his armpit and shove him. It lifts his hand off of her enough that she can slip away sideways. She'd hoped to push him over, but her leg isn't long enough to get him off balance. He just rocks, still on his knees. Crap.

Before she can get herself righted he's back on her, one large hand covering the top of her chestplate, inches away from her throat. The other hand pins her hipbone, fingers spreading out low across her stomach.

He leans forward to put some weight on her, and she desperately tries to hold on to the parts of her that are a clan leader and a warrior and a grown woman who doesn't just— _fold_. Tries to think of a move to make, a way to break his hold. Her hand is clutching his forearm, but she's not even really trying to get him away anymore. All she can think of is his hand slipping up just enough to cover her throat. And the other hand—

He leans close, visor directly above hers, and she tries not to squirm. A tiny noise escapes her.

"Hmm," he rumbles. "...or maybe it was."

His little finger lightly traces back and forth on the crease of her hip. Nika is trembling, so wet she can feel her underwear cling to her. Her face flushes hot under her helmet, mortified with being caught with this, with going all soft and yielding in the middle of a fucking spar, for star's sake. At least they're alone in this closed exercise room and it's only him seeing her roll over for him like—

"Wasn't really expecting this kind of surrender," he says softly. Nika turns her face away, feeling too exposed like this even with her helmet on. His hand comes up to firmly turn her back to face him, and she whimpers.

"You're into it, aren't you?"

The asshole, how much more obvious does it have to be? Is he really going to make her say it?

"Fffuck you," she manages to spit, trying to swing up her leg so she can kick him.

Paz moves suddenly to block her. He grabs onto her thigh, his large hand curling around it, side of his index finger pressed against her intimately. The other hand is at her throat, not really squeezing, but with clear intent. Nika stills.

"... _I'm_ into it..." he tells her softly.

And just like that the fight leaves her, the fear to reveal herself. It's okay to like this. He's not going to humiliate her for it. She can allow herself.

She gives a tight little nod, and he hums, pleased and approving, gloved thumb stroking her jaw.

"Do you want to take your helmet off for me?"

He doesn't command her, or she would have told him to fuck right off. He doesn't even exactly request it, and that makes it easier. She's already taken it off with him before now, she's only wearing it for sparring. But this excruciating vulnerability is something else, exposing her face in this situation when knowing his will stay covered—

It's also exciting. Her hands go up, and he lets go of her, sitting up a little as if in surprise. She tosses her helmet to the edge of the mat and shakes out the coiled length of her hair. When she looks up she blinks to see that he's working on his bracers and gloves. Then the straps of his cuirass.

Well. Okay then.

Both their plate tossed to the side, his hands settle huge and warm on her sides, and he lifts her up, easy as anything. He settles her in front of him, her back to his chest. and she makes a needy little noise of approval when his heavy arm slips around her throat.

It's more a hold than a real choke right now, but that could change any moment, and her breath gusts out of her. Her mind goes quiet and still with the pressure. His other hand settles warm and heavy on her belly.

"What do you need, Nika girl?" he asks, soft and low by her ear.

The noise she makes is whinier than she'd like, but is he really going to make her say it? Apparently, because he just holds her like that until she clamps a hand to his broad wrist and guides him down to between her thighs, where he finally— _finally—_ presses the palm of his hand against her, thick fingers right up against her legging-clad pussy. She rolls her hips against his hand, and it's not quite enough, but it's a long way better than the nothing of before.

"That what you wanted? My fingers up against your pussy?"

He seems perfectly content to stay like that, lightly rolling his fingers against her over her leggings, never quite giving enough of the kind of friction she needs. She squirms, trying to clamp her thighs together to trap his hand, increase the contact.

He suddenly yanks her up by the neck to still her, tightening his hold, making her gasp. His feet hook over her ankles to keep her legs spread. Nika remembers that she has hands—weird how she'd almost forgotten—and presses one against her core where she is heated and pulsing.

Paz makes a forbidding sound that makes her freeze with a gasp. He pushes her forward and down by the neck, folding her double for a moment, and pulls her arms behind her back, trapping them between their bodies when he pulls her back to a sit. Then his arm goes back around her neck, and his other hand slides up her torso. She makes a dismayed sound, and he chuckles, low and dark.

"No. If you _ask_ for what you want… with words… like a good girl…"

She whimpers.

"Then maybe I'll _give_ you what you want…"

A moan claws its way up Nika's throat, the sound vibrating against the crook of his elbow. Fuck, even silently admitting that she's into this was hard enough, the thought of actually asking him out loud for what she wants makes her squirm. It's way more exposing than taking off her helmet. Asshole. Why can't he just… know what she wants, damn it.

Yeah, okay, fine..

His other hand is sliding up her belly, under her shirt and the stretchy cropped top underneath it. He palms her breast with a pleased little hum, and she tries to keep breathing.

Her whole body feels stretched thin with tension which he kneads her breasts, teases her nipples, startles her with little pinches whenever she goes too quiet to his tastes. She'd hoped that he'd move on on his own, but after what feels like an eternity, in which her breath rasps and her pulse pounds in her pussy and she starts shivering with tension, it becomes clear he's happy to just keep her here like this.

It's not that he isn't aroused. She can feel the hard length of him press up against the hands she has behind her back. He just seems to enjoy her desperation more than he wants to fuck her.

"Paz!" she pleads finally, squirming.

"Hmm?"

"I need—can I just!—"

Her hips roll forward against nothing, and she thinks she might go crazy if he doesn't start fucking _touching_ her.

"Was there a question in there?"

He sounds so dark and forbidding, his voice plucking a string low in her belly. It makes her feel small and vulnerable and completely at his mercy, and it feels so fucking _good_.

A high keening sound comes out of her like a kettle left on the boil too long, and she turns her face into his arm, trying to hide her face. "Fuck me, _please_ , I need—I'm so fucking ready, I need your cock, please— _sir_."

She feels his breath hitch as if that last took him by surprise as much as it did her, and then he's picking her up and turning her over, easily putting her down on her back. His hands release her for a moment to rip his undershirt over his head, impatiently tugging it over the helmet. Then he's back on her, kneeling between her legs, and she's almost sobbing with impatience when he tries to pull down her leggings and they both realise they're tied with a drawstring. His fingers are as shaky as hers are, fumbling with the tightened knot. The first sign that he isn't as calm and in control as he seemed.

"Tear it, fuck, I don't _care_ ," Nika gasps, lifting her hips, aching to be touched. He looks at her face quickly for confirmation, and the next moment his fingers curl into the fabric over her thighs and he rips the seam, splitting her leggings down the middle. The next moment her underwear is gone too, and then—

She nearly sobs in relief when he unceremoniously pushes two thick fingers into her and curls them, and her back arches off the mat.

"Please, your cock, sir, fuck me, I need—" she keens, and he keeps moving and curling those fingers, lifting her hips off the mat, while undoing his pants with his other hands. She catches a glimpse and fuck, he's—it's not really a surprise after she'd felt it pressed against her hands, but stars, damn.

He pulls out his fingers and pins her hips to the mat with one broad hand on her lower belly, and then he's slicking the blunt head of his cock through the obscene wetness of her folds.

"Fuck, yeah, please sir," she whimpers, gasping when he begins to push in. It's like now she's past the barrier to hearing herself say these things aloud, it's much easier. More filth spills from her mouth as if it's being forced out of her along with the air from her lungs.

He's watching her face closely, and the moment she feels like he's so deep that he's hit the end of her, a dull pressure-pain radiating out through her belly, he stills. They're both breathing heavily. Nika's restless hands trace his arms, his shoulders, whatever she can reach. She wishes she could kiss him, or rest her forehead against his. _Fuck_ he's deep.

His slow drag back out makes her toes curl. She's not sure what kind of sound comes out of her.

Paz repositions his hand to brush the pad of his thumb over her clit, and begins his slow, relentless thrust back in. The pressure is incredible, the ridge of his cockhead catching against her walls deliciously.

When he's in as far as he can go he pauses, looking at her intently.

"You've gone quiet, Nika girl."

As if she could scrape together enough braincells to form coherent words right now. She gasps like a fish at his grinding little hip roll.

"Alright?"

She nods frantically.

"Good," his voice drops into something low and darkly pleased. He holds her hips and then moves, sitting up on his knees and pulling her hips up with him until only her shoulders and head are on the mat. She wraps her legs around his hips. It changes the angle he's fucking her at, and she trembles all over as it allows him to slide impossibly deeper, pressed up behind her cervix. The pleasure of it makes her eyes roll back in her head. Her hands flutter aimlessly and finally land on his thighs.

He fucks her like that, leisurely and thorough. She keeps expecting him to speed up, to pound into her. She half wants it and is half afraid she'll have to tap out. This is already such an onslaught. But instead he just keeps going at this pace, until she is half crazed with it. Long, dragging thrusts alternated with deep grinding hip rolls in that impossibly deep place inside of her, until her bones turn to liquid and she can't stop trembling. His hand slips to her jaw, thumb pressing to her lips. She sucks it into her mouth and feels entirely, deliciously in his power, surrendered into his hands and held safe there.

"Sweet girl," he sighs, voice low and rough, and moves his thumb to her clit, just there, just a light pressure. But everything is already so _much_ and she feels so _full_ and—

"—come for me."

She does, just like that, the pleasure spilling over and radiating out, her whole body arching and spasming erratically. He holds her to him, cock so deep inside of her it feels like they are fused together, the pleasure stretching out white-hot and blinding. She's probably crying out _something_ , but she has no idea what.

The next thing she knows her back is flat on the mat, and Paz is over her, caging her in with his hands curled around her shoulders. Most of his weight on his forearms so she can breathe, and he is thrusting shallow and uneven, grunting and cursing through his release.

After his last thrust, after the last weak flutters or her pussy have ebbed away, he lets his forehead thunk to the mat next to her head. He lets out a long sigh that blows out his voice modulator a little, and before he relaxes his weight much more onto her he rolls to the side. She makes an exhausted noise of surprise when he takes her with him until she's splayed out on his chest, whole body feeling wrung out and empty and delicious. His chest is broad and warm and she nestles her head where she can feel his heart pounding under his ribs.

She is a clan leader and her people need her to make important decisions… and more immediate, her leggings are torn open at the crotch and she's going to need to get to her quarters somehow. But none of it matters just yet with Paz's broad, heavy hands weighing her down against his chest.

"...that's what I needed... sir," she murmurs drowsily against his skin.

His chuckle is soundless, his squeeze on the nape of her neck affectionate.

"Good girl."

**Author's Note:**

> [GO LOOK AT THE ART SOME MORE](https://twitter.com/OvessBin/status/1230407212096466944/photo/1)


End file.
